jane-eyre

an exact, clever manager; her household and tenantry were
thoroughly under her control; her children only at times
defied her authority and laughed it to scorn; she dressed
well, and had a presence and port calculated to set off handsome
attire.
Sitting on a low stool, a few yards from her arm-chair, I
examined her figure; I perused her features. In my hand I
held the tract containing the sudden death of the Liar, to
which narrative my attention had been pointed as to an appropriate
warning. What had just passed; what Mrs. Reed
had said concerning me to Mr. Brocklehurst; the whole tenor
of their conversation, was recent, raw, and stinging in my
mind; I had felt every word as acutely as I had heard it plainly,
and a passion of resentment fomented now within me.
Mrs. Reed looked up from her work; her eye settled on
mine, her fingers at the same time suspended their nimble
movements.
‘Go out of the room; return to the nursery,’ was her mandate.
My look or something else must have struck her as
offensive, for she spoke with extreme though suppressed irritation.
I got up, I went to the door; I came back again; I
walked to the window, across the room, then close up to
her.
SPEAK I must: I had been trodden on severely, and
MUST turn: but how? What strength had I to dart retaliation
at my antagonist? I gathered my energies and launched
them in this blunt sentence—
‘I am not deceitful: if I were, I should say I loved you; but
I declare I do not love you: I dislike you the worst of any-
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